


Yearning

by Dirtyglass



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Inquistor insert, Inquizzy left ambiguous so it's up to your imagination, Pre-Trespasser, brief nudity, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5869204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirtyglass/pseuds/Dirtyglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Lavellan and her party gets into a rough battle with enemies, causing Solas to have to carry her back to Skyhold. Solas deals with his growing feelings for Lavellan as he cleans her injuries. </p><p>[ First time writing Lavellan/Solas, I have this planned to be a two chapter fic. ]</p><p>[ Edit: I'm working on a 3rd chapter : > ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They all knew better than to try to fight these Darkspawn, they held too much power for the small group of four. The Inquisitor knew it deep in her heart and yet wanted to fight on, prove that she was worthy enough to take down the evil creatures. Maybe she was too headstrong after having a clean streak of killing off enemies. Nonetheless she couldn't deny that her party had taken a harsh blow at the end of the ordeal. 

By harsh blow, it meant that even Iron Bull was worn out. Dorian meanwhile had been muttering about how they could have -- _no_ \-- should have been dead after such a fight. Lavellan felt a shame deep in her stomach for putting her squad at such a risk, it coiled around her throat and caused a dry lump to form. Her hands gripping tightly onto her blood stained weapon. The other two taking a well needed break while she kept to herself.

Solas too had his fair share of bruises and splinters embedded from gripping his wooden staff. He knew before it started it wasn’t going to end well, yet nothing could stop the Inquisitor from going into her reckless assault. That fact no longer bothered him, instead he had spent the last few minutes seeing all the injuries on the Inquisitor. He knew well that she was trying to hide it, be the strong leader of their squad.

But there were times one needs a helping hand.

And by the Maker, did Solas want to be that person. Recover, and be well once more. Yet she was too stubborn to allow him to heal her. Did she not see he only wanted to make her feel better? Instead, he came to the conclusion of stepping aside and letting her do as she pleased. Even if it did continue to irk Solas, he would respect what she wished.

It didn’t make it any easier seeing her limp across the forest floor as they resumed their travels. Iron Bull even pointed it out, yet she simply cracked a weak smile and said it was nothing. “That doesn’t look like nothing, boss.” he retorted.

“I will endure it, Bull. You should worry about that rip on your backside,” she teased. Thus causing Bull to turn around and make sure there really wasn’t a rip on his breeches. 

“Ha--I know now what the great Inquisitor is focusing on.” Bull giving his typical banter right back at her. A playful wink to top it off. Dorian rolling his eyes and smiling anyways. 

Yet Solas was still bothered by it all, she needed to heal. Perhaps he was doting on her too much, alas that would change when more Darkspawn decided to appear. At a very bad time, all were still worn out from the last bit. Of course they would head straight to the Inquisitor, the one who was limping and had broken armor about to fall off. Of course they would kick while she’s already on the ground. Of course he saw it happen right before his eyes.

A silent rage filled Solas at the sight of her collapsing onto the ground like a rag doll. Weapon falling out of her reach while crimson red stained across her stomach. Iron Bull and Dorian busy with other Darkspawn, Solas casted off spells as if his life depended on it (to him, it did.) A flurry of magic surrounding the vile beasts as he made quick work on them, even Bull was caught staring at Solas’ new found power. While it wasn’t new, the scene of her collapsing only uncorked his magic to spill out like a wave.

He rushed to her side in a matter of seconds and knelt by her side. A single finger moved hair plastered off her sweat-covered face. A heavy sigh left his lips as he began to cast a spell to cure her ailments, green magic casted off his fingers. Slender digits tracing the side of her pale face where blood ran down her cheek. Solas hated this situation, it left his throat dry while he wondered if this would really help.

Finally color began to appear on her face, eyes fluttering awake to the sight of her companions surrounding her. Solas still adding the last of the spells to her frame. The sight of his miserable expression brought the second wave of shame today. A low groan attempting to leave her mouth caused her to wince in pain. Solas taking note of that immediately. Lavellan could barely make out the image of Solas, at least he was alive. Even after her big failure. 

“Please, do not move. You are greatly injured.” His hand pressing her back onto the ground when she tried to sit up. Only to get another groan in response from her. “You are lucky you are alive. That… That was foolish of you to try--” Solas clenching his teeth together while anger boiled in his stomach.

“Boss knows that, Solas. Layoff.” Iron Bull interrupted, placing a hand onto Solas’ shoulder. Which was soon brushed off by the elf.

“We are going back to Skyhold, there will be no argument of that.” Solas concluded. Lavellan drifted in and out of consciousness, not hearing the rest of the parties discussion. All the colors in sight started to blur, it could almost be considered beautiful if she wasn’t in so much pain. 

It was Solas who picked her body off the ground. More gentle than she deserved, he wouldn’t allow his pain to stop from helping her. Lavellan’s head rolled onto his armored shoulder, mouth falling open a bit. No matter what, he couldn't stay mad at her for too long. The way she clutched onto his tunic reminded him why he was doing it in the first place. To protect the headstrong woman that only wanted the Inquisition to succeed. Thus, he carried her like a valuable gift.

Iron Bull insisted on carrying her earlier, but Solas was quick to talk back. “Dorian and you are the best hope we have of surviving. Your brute strength is needed more than another mage.” Instantly silencing the Qunari warrior, Bull wasn’t one to argue with that logic. The other two were equally as worried as Solas, they knew there was no point in trying to argue. They needed to get back to Skyhold as soon as possible. 

Thank the Maker they managed to make it to Skyhold, the castle coming into view after their long drudge back. Few of the patrons of the castle stared at the maimed party, many concerned about their mighty Inquisitor in the arms of an apostate. Even Varric wanted to get a word in about what happened, instead Solas walked right past him. Now wasn't the time for quick remarks or comments.

The Mage insisted that he be the one to heal her, and wanted no disruptions from others while doing so. Iron Bull and Dorian didn’t want to tread deeper into Solas’ bad mood, and left to clean themselves up instead. Solas entered into the Inquisitor's chambers, ascending the wooden steps to her room. His muscles ached from the day’s activities, though he wouldn't allow his weakness to deter from healing her.

All the while muttering to the sleeping woman about it. “I should have stopped her _sooner_ ,” or “Why did she _insist_ on fighting more?” His emotions flipping between guilt and blame. Setting her down onto her bed, Solas once more pushed her hair off her forehead. The pad of his thumb dragging down and brushing blood off her bottom lip. Lingering for a moment as he stared at her state. 

_Focus_ , rang out in his head. Now isn’t the time for gawking, Solas reminded himself. The mage went to work, removing her armor and bloody tunic. A crisp undershirt and leggings reminded on her lithe frame after. Bruises accumulated on her arms from battles, some older while others fresh from just today. A part of him wanted to lean over, kiss the pain away. That’s hardly practical, his mind spoke out. 

Pushing his fantasies away, Solas casted a spell which lit his hands up with a low glow. Next dragging them along her arms down to her wrists. Despite her condition, her skin was warm beneath his touch. A gash on her stomach came to his attention, using a damp cloth to pat away the blood. Lifting up the bottom of her shirt to apply a healing salve to it. Finishing up the task by wrapping the wound up. 

Her undershirt was tattered beyond saving, he considered removing it for her. His eyes had trailed up to her raising and falling chest, how she slept so peacefully despite the previous harm. Again, her clothing desperately needed changed. _Would she disapprove of me doing so? Find it inappropriate for her apostate to do that?_ He questioned inside his head. 

Solas found himself flushed at the thought of removing her clothes, even if it was for her comfort. At last he came to a conclusion: Be quick and don’t look at her body. He wanted to respect the Inquisitor, and preferred to stay on her good side. While his wandering eyes might be the only problem through it.

After grabbing clothes from her dresser, he started the process of carefully removing her tattered clothes. While being sure that she wouldn't wake from slumber, and thankfully, she didn’t. Curling his fingers under the waistband of her leggings, he pulled them off her. They were pressed with dirt and the smell of Darkspawn. A single motion and they were thrown to the side of the bed. His cheeks were painted red at the few times his eyes drifted. Focus, Solas reminded himself.

At last she was dressed in a nightgown. Solas pulling the blanket over her body before standing. A wall of tiredness hit him right then, it had been a long day. But his Inquisitor was safe, no longer in danger and the aches in his body disappeared at the thought. “Now sleep well, ma vhenan.” His hand reaching down to tuck a piece of hair behind her hair. A smile was on his face gazing down at her. Soon retracting his hand before leaving her chambers. 

\--

The creak of the wooden door behind him, Solas entered into the main room of the castle. Few patrons sparing him glances upon leaving the great Inquisitor's private chambers. Varric was the first to greet Solas in nearly hours, the familiar smirk on the Dwarf’s face. 

“How’s the Inquisitor faring, chuckles?” His deep voice saying the nickname Solas disliked greatly. 

“She will heal in due time. It would be best for no one to disturb her.” Ignoring the nickname for the time being. 

“No one besides you that means.” Varric saw right past anything, what he lacked in height he made up in wits. 

Solas resisted the urge to roll his eyes, not entirely in the mood to deal with Varric’s bantering. “Unless someone else plans on taking control of the Inquisitor's health, then no. I will be the only one to see her.” His hands folded behind his back. Really, he just wanted to clean up before seeing Lavellan again. It was never that simple around Skyhold. 

“Dare I say, you sound a bit possessive of the Inquisitor?” A raise of Varric’s eyebrow with his question. The rouge knew what was going on, he always saw the longer-than-necessary looks Solas gave to her. 

“I am not possessive, Varric. I simply care for her survival. We need her to close The Breach, all of this would be for nothing if she were to die.” While it didn’t show, it hurt to say it like that. Solas didn’t want Varric dragging this out longer than needed. 

“Always painfully honest, chuckles. You know I wouldn't disturb your care taking of her.” The smirk never leaving his face. “I wouldn't keep you any longer.” he concluded, turning away to do whatever he was up to. Most likely using this interaction for the next excerpt of his book. 

Solas felt his muscles relax once the conversation was over. At last headed into his small piece of Skyhold. _Am I possessive? No, I only want what is in her best interest._ He thought over that one word Varric said to him. He couldn't deny he enjoyed being around her, though he did enjoy it more when it was only them together. The times she asked him questions about the Fade and he’d gladly explain. The way her face lit up around him… And how his heart felt a little bit lighter. 

_Ma vhenan_. My heart. 

He’d call her that without even realizing. Solas never once thought he’d speak such words to someone, let alone the Inquisitor. She was in his thoughts often, ranging from innocent daydreams to more heated engagements. 

Maybe Varric was correct, maybe he did feel a pull towards her that could border possessiveness. 

For now, he would push that words away, pay attention to his aching body. The dirty armor and clothing that needed to be removed. His Inquisitor would need to be checked soon, and Solas wanted to be there when she awoke.


	2. Chapter 2

Solas estimated he'd have an hour before she would be up, using up every last minute to look presentable. There was a weak attempt to ignore Varric while leaving his room, the dwarf greeted him like clockwork. The elf replying with a half hearted hello, he didn’t wish to hear anymore of what the other man had to say today. Especially if it had to do with his “possessiveness.”

What happened to be by far one of the worst days of her of life. Turned out to be really okay. By okay, it meant that she wasn't dead. Lavallen awoke with most of her body in pain, one particular part hurting more than the rest. Her stomach was cut from what she could remember. Oddly enough, she was cleaned off and in her nightgown. 

With a certain apostate by her side. “Solas?” A tilt of her head accompanied her question. The events from earlier flooded back into her head. Practically causing her to cringe at it. “I... Must apologize for my recklessness earlier. I endangered everyone.” Her head was casted down towards the bed. Too much shame to look into his eyes. 

Solas raised his hand to halt her words. “It is fine, ma--my inquisitor,” Solas nearly tumbling over his own words. Too close to calling her those two words: Ma vhenan. His face straining at the thought of what her reaction could have been. At least she didn’t notice it, as far as he could tell. 

“How is Bull? Dorian? I can’t forgive myself if something terrible happened to them,” eyebrows furrowing together out of concern. The guilt from earlier still wavered in the pit of her stomach. 

“They will endure. Dorian’s hair may be messed up, but he is still in one piece. Iron Bull is… Iron Bull, most likely drinking away in the tavern,” the elf replied, smoothing out his tunic while speaking. 

A sigh fell from her lips, one hand gripping her forehead with her eyes pressed shut. Muttering a quiet thank you to the Maker. “I see. I sparsely remember you carrying me back, I cannot thank you enough for that.” she paused to look at his all too familiar eyes. A faint smile crossing her lips that he only managed to pick out.

The words that came from her lips caused his heart to skip a beat. Nearly hours ago she was by death’s door, now she looked to him with utter appreciation. How he thrived off these interactions would always confuse himself. In contrast, Solas didn’t care one bit. She was there, alive, and it was only them together. 

“I wouldn't have ever hesitated to help you, Inquisitor.” he spoke, returning her a smile. “I can only hope now that you will heal quickly. I used what magic I could to lessen the pain.” 

Lavellan gave a short nod to him, a single hand tracing the burning sensation across her stomach. “It’s better than nothing, I know you did what you could… Though I’m assuming you were also, ah--the one to change me into clean garbs?” It was a struggle not to be embarrassed at the idea of him removing her clothing. Even if it was completely reasonable for him to do so.

At that note, Sola’s checks started to take on a light pink. “Y-yes, I did. I promise you, Inquisitor. I had no other intentions besides your health.” He was quick to clarify. Now was when he began to question if he shouldn't have done so, the Inquisitor looked mortified. “I apologize if--”

Now it was her turn to cut him off before he dug a digger hole. “I understand! I would have done the same if I was in your situation.” Not a lie in the slightest, it was questionable if she’d remove his clothing, though. 

A silence filled the space between them for a moment, neither unsure of how to proceed from there. Solas in particular attempting to figure out a way to recover from what she learned. While also trying to push away the memories of her smooth and bare skin beneath his fingers. Focus, he told himself. 

“Solas?” Her sweet voice interrupting his thoughts as per usual. 

“Yes?” he looked back to her with curiosity.

“Could you check my side again? It feels like it is burning. I think that should be normal in honesty, considering the damage…” she rambled on. Lavellan wouldn't openly admit it, however she wanted him to stay around longer. His presence made her feel at ease, even with the awkward exchange a minute it. 

That was all he needed to hear, giving her one nod as an answer. “Please lay back. Perhaps I can apply another spell to lessen the burning sensation.” It was all he could offer at the time, part of himself mad that he couldn't do more to ease her pain. 

She pulled the edge of her blanket to cover her hips while moving onto her back. The end of her nightgown pulled up to the end of her ribcage. Her lower half covered up while allowing the bandage across the injury to be in plain sight. Solas lifted his slim fingers to peel the blood soaked material off her stomach. For her, he would do anything to help.

Once more he cleaned the long slice with water then salve. Lavellan could only watch as his expertly worked on her body. The slow rise and fall of her chest seemed to be the only part of her that was moving. All his focus seemed to be on that injury, allowing her a few moments to simply observe and think. Mostly about him, how he always was by her side or glad to explain this or that. 

Meanwhile Solas cleaned it. “I’m going to try a spell now, let me know if the pain becomes worse.” The words coming out in a whisper for her. She could fall asleep like this, the gentle work of his hands along her body. Instead, she nodded, one hand clutching onto the bedsheet as the discomfort began to grow.

With her nod, he started the spell. A faint glow started to swirl between his fingers, his hands easing onto the wound. His once warm hands held a coolness to them now, Lavellan inhaling at the sensation of it on her skin. The pain started to null at the brisk sensation thanks to his work. Her long eyelashes started to flutter close as she exhaled the pain away. 

After the glow from his fingers disappeared, remnants of the spell fluttered into the air. Solas simply kept his hands there for longer than needed. Partly to make sure her skin would return to its warm temperature, the other part being that he didn’t want to move away. His Inquisitor didn’t deserve an ugly scar like this, why didn’t he do anything to stop it from occurring?

The possibilities of what he could have done stopped soon. There was a hand on top of his. His eyes followed up the arm to his dear vhenan. Half lidded eyes looked to him, the corners of her lips forming a soft smile. “Thank you, Solas. I can always depend on you.” Her hand giving a small squeeze to his at the end of her sentence. 

These moments reminded Solas why he stayed with the Inquisition, it was her that always brought him back. Longing to see her gentle smile or melodic laughter. “Anything for you, Inquisitor.” Was all he could say, he couldn't get himself to say more. Allow his feelings to spill out like a glass of wine, he wouldn't allow his emotions to distract the Inquisitor from The Breach.

Each day became harder for him to do so, today was more challenging than ones before. Solas needed to distance himself before it became worse, before his urges got the better of him. Yet he wasn’t the only one alone in this situation. Lavellan too found herself more and more drawn to the apostate mage. 

What harm could come of them allowing their feelings to flow? 

“I believe there is still something on the side of your face, Solas.” she spoke up, carefully watching him with the smile remaining. He was positive he’d gotten everything earlier, did he miss a spot?

“Where at?” he asked, a hand reaching up to his face. 

“Lean forward, I’ll get it.” 

And so he did, yet he didn’t feel a thumb come up to wipe off the blood. Instead, Lavellan perched up as far as she could on her elbows. Soft lips laying a kiss to the side of his face, although long enough to make Solas’ eyes widen. A heat filled his heart at the small affection she gave him, the elf nearly lost his train of thought until Lavellan pulled away with a cheeky grin. 

“I believe I got it now.” she concluded. 

His hand fell over the spot with the corner of his mouth falling into a smirk. “Did you now?” he quirked an eyebrow towards her. The Inquisitor would never fail to surprise him, another reason he came always was drawn back to her. “I don’t believe you could have gotten all of it. I was quite a mess earlier.” he teased back. 

The same smile was on her face, the one he loved dearly. “No, no… I’m sure I got it. Still it never hurts to double check...” 

“If that is the case, then allow me to get a spot I miss.” Solas leaned forward, taking the back of her neck with his hand to plant a gentle kiss onto her lips. It was just as he imagined in his dreams. At last, it was all too real right before him. She reciprocated the kiss, her head tilted to further deepen the kiss. 

Solas wouldn't have minded staying like this longer, surely this wasn’t the most comfortable position for her however. With a bit of slight disappointment, he pulled away. “It seems to be gone now.” he smiled, moving a single strand of hair off her face.   
\--

“Twenty pieces of gold and I bet chuckles is already in bed with her.” Varric spoke over a mug of beer. The Dwarf was in the midst of a betting war with Iron Bull and Dorian. 

“He isn’t that ballsy. Fifteen pieces that he’s still “cleaning” her wound.” Iron Bull retorted back before taking a swig of his third mug. Actually, he lost count of which one he was on. 

“You all are wrong, put me down for thirty pieces. He’s bored her to sleep with talking about The Fade.” Dorian interjected at the end. The other two giving a glance to each other, nodding and deciding to seal their bets with a gulp of alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I'm sort of tempted to continue this. Let me know if you guys want me to do so! Comments/Kudos/CC are very much welcome.


End file.
